


Next Time

by Cephy



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Community: no_true_pair, Dark, Drugs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-07
Updated: 2008-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt "sex under the influence".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Not a happy fic; this takes place during the Nibelheim years. Repeat: not happy.

A hard hand between his shoulderblades pushed him forward even as the hood was pulled from his head. He turned as fast as he was able-- and nearly fell as the room spun-- but was only just in time to see the door seal shut behind him. He staggered back to it regardless, dug his fingers into the thin seams around the edges, but just like all the others this one refused to give even an inch, and in the end he just slammed a fist into it-- to no effect, of course, but it did make him feel a bit better.

He turned and leaned himself against the wall while he looked around. Just another room, this one round and white-walled. Cameras all along the ceiling, of course-- he glared up at those as best he could with his vision wavering, then gave it up and glanced down at his arm again, wondering just what they'd given him this time, virulent green and burning when it went in, _gods_. The puncture where the needle had gone in was red, but instead of looking _bruised_, the flesh around it had the look of frost-frozen white.

A hiss of air jerked his head up as a lock somewhere released, and when the door on the far wall swung wide, into the room came a monster.

It was _big_\-- tall and broad, with horns on its head and wings nearly brushing the ceiling-- but perhaps the most disturbing part was how much more it looked like a human than an animal-- two arms, two legs, and something dishearteningly like intellingence glittering in its eyes. Though that last seemed lost quickly enough as the thing bared teeth in a snarl and _lunged_.

Even as his mind was wincing back and bracing for impact, Zack's body was moving, shifting and twisting until he could meet the thing's charge and turn it into to the wall. It all happened almost without any effort on his part, and even with the persistent muzziness to his thoughts, his muscles seemed too strong, too fast. Which was almost certainly the point, he thought grimly, settling low as the monster got back up and turned his way once more. Zack's blood was still burning with the shit they'd shot into him, and he wondered for a moment whether they'd given the creature the same stuff, because it certainly seemed maddened by something-- Zack himself, despite his efforts for control, began to feel a certain satisfaction in the fight as it went on, something beyond the simple relief at being able to _move_ again. It was a sense almost like the bloodlust of berserk, though he tried to fight it down.

He cursed as the monster got inside his guard-- grabbed for it even as claws were going for his throat and amazingly enough _held_ it there. They grappled back and forth, shifting weight and advantage, close enough that the creature's stinking breath was in his face though he supposed after so long without a toothbrush his couldn't have been much better.

Another surge forward, bringing them suddenly hip-to-hip, and Zack gasped-- over-sensitive, _everything_ was over-sensitive, so why was it such a surprise that-- only even with his libido, there was no way to really expect to be getting _hard_ while wrestling a giant monster that--

That--

That suddenly reeled back, staggering, and shrank down into a _man_ clad in ratty red and looking just as dazed as Zack still felt. Automatically, Zack reached out to steady him, only that put them right back where they'd been a few seconds before, and--

_Oh gods_.

And the man was hard too, and the way he clung to Zack's shoulders-- it was impossible not to rub, not to seek _more_ even if it was entirely too weird for words and no little bit overwhelming. They fell to the floor, knees hitting in a way that would probably be painful later, and the man keened as Zack's teeth found his neck. There was a hand hard between his legs, even as he shoved his knee between the other's--

_Gods, gods, gods--_

And then it all broke, just like that, with a heave of air and a dizzy drain of energy, and then the doors were opening, people coming in with guns fixed on them and chains in hand.

Zack was gratified to see the man bare his teeth and growl when Hojo came in. He kind of wanted to do the same, himself.

"Take him out," Hojo snapped, jerking his head at the man in red. Several attendants leapt forward immediately; they pulled a dark hood over the man's head, bound him tight enough that he could barely walk. Zack saw his head turn back, blindly seeking, before the door closed.

Hojo stopped-- just out of reach, more's the pity-- and gave a dismissive sniff. "Disappointing."

Zack stared at him, holding still as he was bound as well. _I could quite cheerfully rip you limb from limb right now_, he thought at the man, mind red with rage. _I think I could do it, like this, even if they shot me-- you'd die before I would. If it weren't for Cloud--_

"Put him in Room Two for observation, not that I expect he'll need it." The doctor was already turning away. "This one seems strangely resistant to the treatment. We'll start on the other one in the morning, he may prove more responsive."

Zack froze. _The other one_. The words went through him like a Bolt, turning rage cold in his chest, but even as he coiled himself to lunge for Hojo's back, the hood came down over his eyes, and the resultant vertigo from his still-spinning head let the attendants knock him to his knees.

_Cloud--_

He was pushed through the halls with as much care as always-- which was to say, none at all-- and heard that hated sound of the closing door just after his bonds were released. He staggered, tore at the hood and pulled it loose just in time to be too late once again. Staring bleakly at the door, he swayed on his feet and then slid down the wall as his knees decided they'd had enough, as the burning in his blood seemed to finally die and leave him bonelessly exhausted. He was uncomfortably aware of the clammy dampness in his pants, and nearly sick with a cold kind of fear as he stared at that closed door.

_Next time_, he thought, resolved to be ready, resolved to be stronger. _Next time--_

He hoped there would be a next time.


End file.
